Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

brOOKE

He made a mistake. I can’t believe Mr. High and Mighty actually made a mistake. He’s going to let me out in four days to take me to the club.

I was hoping to get him to talk, sure. But he was in a pissy mood today, so I didn’t think I’d get anything out of him. But then he drops that jewel right before he leaves?

I bite my lip and pace back and forth in the dungeon bedroom.

I’ve been to the club. Yeah, there was a lot of eye-popping stuff going on, but strangely enough, they all seemed like normal people. It’s like, even though some people there had masks on, they still were being themselves—with their most real, deepest desires on bare display. And Moira and Quinn will probably be there, right? Quinn seems like she’d rip out a man’s throat with her bare teeth if he fucked with her, and Moira… unless that was a mighty good act. She seemed so genuine in a way you rarely come across.

When we get there, I can just yell out that Domhnall’s kidnapped me or scream, “Red, red, red!” and someone will take me seriously. While we were there last week, I saw a girl use her safe word and everything in the scene and all around the room pretty much stopped until her dom had seen to her. The big burly bouncer, Isaak, looked ready to toss his ass, too, if he wasn’t extremely careful with her.

Just four more days, and then there’ll be no more collars or being locked in a dungeon or being forced to drink my water from a bowl like a dog.

There’ll be no more Domhnall.

The odd twist in my guts at that thought only shows how much I need to get the hell outta here. He’s climbing into the empty crevices in my mind left behind by the amnesia. In the parts where ghosts and black boxes live. I had another nightmare last night. I was getting closer and closer to the black box, and all I wanted to do was run away. But I couldn’t move, except somehow I was still getting closer to the box, and it was all I could see and I couldn’t escape, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe ?—

It has to be a metaphor for this place. I need to get the fuck out of here .

In the next four days, I’ll get whatever information I can about my past, and then I’ll dip the fuck out.

At some point, I’ve got to say fuck the past, right? Everything I learn about it is bad. I should be focusing on the future. I can go to Chicago and stay with my friend, Ria, from the shelter, for a few weeks while I try to get my feet back under me. During my six weeks at the shelter, they had classes on making healthier choices. Getting away from here as soon as I can is the healthy choice.

But until then, I’ll keep playing chess with Domhnall. I’ll be the perfect little sub he’s been looking for. I’ll let him knock off all my pawns and feel in control.

Only to have my queen positioned perfectly to win the game.

So when I hear the elevator ping, I rush over to get into position, falling to my knees and dropping my head just in time.

I hear his satisfied grunt of surprise right as the doors open as his perfectly shined black dress shoes and pants step out and stop in front of me. With my face down where he and the cameras can’t see, I allow myself a secret little smile, then make my face blank as a doll. That’s what he’ll get from me for the next five days. A pliant little doll.

“Good girl,” comes his deep rumbly voice.

Ha. If he only knew.

He makes clicking noises like you would for an animal as he takes hold of my chain and starts to walk back towards the dungeon room. “Come.”

I keep my eye roll internal as I turn around and crawl at his side.

“What’s elicited this little change of heart, pet?” he asks.

Shit. I try to think fast. I thought he’d just be happy about it, not question me. “Why fight the inevitable?” I say, head still down since I’m on my hands and knees. “It’s easier this way. And I thought maybe if I obey, you’d be more willing to tell me about our past.”

“Ahh,” he says.

I frown. What’s that supposed to mean? Does that mean he’ll be more willing to share if I do what he wants? Gah. I just told myself fuck the past, but here I am waffling again.

“Take off that ridiculous outfit. Then up on the spanking bench.”

Double shit. It’s not like this nightie is any kind of real cover with my breasts exposed and no underwear on, but it’s still felt like… something. And the spanking bench. An unconscious little shudder goes through my body.

I remember all too well when I was last up there. But compliant pet is my M.O. today, so I unbutton the collar of the nightie and unzip the side, then slip out of it. I shiver a little and not because the nightie ever provided any warmth. Then I crawl up on the bench, arranging my limbs on the supports.

I’m in control. I’m in control. My cheeks flood with heat as I climb up on the strange piece of furniture that leaves me so exposed. Dammit, I’m in control —but my burning cheeks reveal my lie.

“W-what are you going to do?” I ask.

Domhnall has been moving around elsewhere in the room, and I suppose I should have expected the blindfold he’s carrying when he comes back.

“You’ll see. For this scene, since it requires touching, you may say red if you want it to stop.”

He doesn’t immediately blindfold me. He moves behind me, and his hand comes into view as he reaches around with what looks like a make-up wipe.

I’m so startled, I lay still as he begins carefully swiping the leftover make-up from the auction off my face. I’d scrubbed at some of it with the edge of my bedsheet over the last couple days, but I’ve been left feeling gross because I couldn’t get it all off. Especially the mascara. It’s just been crusted on my lashes.

My eyes fall closed as Domhnall swipes the make-up remover carefully over each eyelid several times, returning with a fresh wipe when one is dirtied. His hands caress the cool wipes over my cheeks. Then down the slope of my nose, careful with the nooks and crannies of my nostrils and mouth. Over and over, his gentle hands attend to me until my face finally feels clean. From the roots of my scalp at the top of my forehead to behind my ears and underneath my jaw. My pores can finally breathe .

Only then does he lower the blindfold, and I can tell he’s being careful not to tangle the back strap in my hair.

His hands return after a short pause, moving on to my neck. But where I expect another cool wipe, now suddenly he’s gently caressing my skin with a warm, wet cloth that feels more like a soft towel. Where the hell did he get that from? I didn’t see it on him when he got off the elevator. Then again, my head was down the whole time.

And god, how does that feel so good? I’m supposed to be pretending to be a good pet anyway , I tell myself as I give myself permission to sink into the sensation.

Fuck, I really needed him to be an asshole today. He’s holding you captive against your will, dummy . He’s always the asshole. I straighten my back, no matter that I’m lying face down on the most objectifying piece of furniture ever designed.

It’s fine. None of this is really affecting me. I’ve got my plan. I’m the queen in hiding while he takes the pawns. I’m just going through the motions with my body. My mind is my own.

“I’ve been neglecting my duties,” he murmurs. “While I do enjoy your musk, pet, keeping you clean is my duty as your owner.”

Now the soft, warm cloth comes to wash down my spine. Again, I blink so fast my eyelashes flutter against the satin mask that blindfolds me. How is the touch of the same man who ruthlessly spanked me now so gentle ?

He caresses the cloth up towards my shoulder. Slowly, back and forth. And then around underneath my armpit where he scrubs tenderly. His touch drops away, and then a warmer cloth, fresh perhaps, comes to my skin as he massages it all the way down my arm.

I squeeze my eyes shut beneath the blindfold.

The thing about waking up without your memory only to find yourself all alone in the world is… there’s no one there to touch you. Nurses, sure, and prodding doctors, but that was just for a couple days at the hospital.

There was no one to hug me. There were no affectionate touches reassuring me everything would be okay.

As Domhn touches me now, I feel as if I’ve been starved for this my whole entire life. And sure, my life as I know it might only be two months long, but still. I think it’s why I gave into him so easily that first night.

Maybe I’ve been starved for touch longer than two months. Maybe it’s been much, much longer…

I should be walling myself off to him. But in the darkness, as warm cloth after warm cloth massages my body so delicately, I’m half delirious with the intimacy of human contact.

And then, as if seeing my defenses weakening, the relentless fucker leans over and starts to whisper in my ear, “You’re such a good, good girl. See how good it can be between us, my sweet little pet, when you give in to me? I can make it so, so good. I’ll bring you pleasure, and I’ll bring you pain. I’ll make each so sweet for you, pet, you won’t be able to tell one from the other.”

I want to shake my head no even though I strain towards the warmth of his chest against my back. I should scream red and leap off of the bench to scramble away from his drugging voice and touch.

Instead, I fight the urge to whine when I feel his chest move away. Another cloth rubs down my outer hip. Then back around to my buttocks. He doesn’t squeeze or anything. But I can still feel the firm pressure of his hand guiding the cloth.

It disappears and a fresh one begins to slide upwards from my knee to my inner thigh. I suck in a breath, my stomach clenching. What will he do? Something sexual? I bite my bottom lip, and not because I’m tempted to say red. I’m dangerously curious about what he’ll do next.

But he just nudges my legs slightly further apart and washes me… there . Then he pulls the cloth away. He washes my backside just as efficiently. All the breath whooshes out of me when he pulls away and I feel a cold, confusing rush of emotions.

I don’t want him to touch me, do I?

You don’t know what you want , I chide myself furiously. You’re all mixed up. He’s intentionally mixing you up, and you’re falling for it.

It’s probably true. I relax my face into the soft padding of the bench. But why not worry about it another time? The soft buzzy feeling is settling in. God, what if for once, I don’t fight? What if I just enjoy being bathed, and feeling the touch of someone’s hands on me, even if it’s through a warm cloth?

Maybe the win today is stealing the energy of some touch. I’ve so desperately needed to be touched. I’ll let the rest wait for another day. I’m trying to establish trust through obedience for a little while, anyway. So today, it’s all right to give in.

My whole body melts as the warm cloth moves down to my ankles. By the time he’s massaging my feet with his strong hands, I’m drifting in the buzzy place. It feels so good. I’ll just steal this pleasure for myself. It’s so, so, so nice. This luxury of touch still feels wildly unfamiliar, like I haven’t known it for a long, long time.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I went to spas all the time and had foot massages on the regular before I got mugged that night in the alley. Maybe I’m a secret heiress and when I get out of here, I’ll find a huge, globe-trotting family that’s been searching the world for me but just never thought of looking in Dallas, Texas.

I sink further into the bench, warmth suffusing my whole body. In whatever deep, knowing place remains inside me, though, I don’t think that was my story. I don’t think there was ever much touch in my circa twenty-three to twenty-four years of walking this earth. Nothing in any of my now relaxed nerves, at least, says this was ever anything familiar.

“That’s my good girl. Curling up like a little kitten, all but purring, aren’t you?” His warm breath is back in my ear. The scent of fresh mint wafts in my nose. And a delicious cologne. He always smells so good. “Now you’re all fresh and clean. You’ve pleased your owner well, pet.”

“That’s good,” he continues, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll give you a treat for being such a good, good girl. It’s time for our next bit of training.”

I startle from my sleepy state at his words. A treat? I’m anxious even at the same time I can’t deny the yearning that springs up low in my belly. From the very first night, my body has craved this man.

“Will you tell me who I am?” I ask sleepily.

“You are who you always were, Mads. Now, when I leave, I want you to touch yourself.”

Wait, he wants me to what ?

He must feel some reaction in my body because he chuckles low. “That’s right. I’ll be watching. Lie in the middle of the bed, exposing yourself to the camera.”

I swallow hard.

“I’ve set a vibrator out on the bed. It’s your choice whether to use it or not. Touch yourself however you desire.”

Without a cloth, his bare finger comes to my back and, torturously slow, begins to trail down the bumps of my spine.

“What do you find sexy, kitten? What will you imagine as you touch that secret place between your legs that swells so sweetly when you start feeling pleasure? It’ll slicken as your mind fills with fantasies. Are they the same as you mentioned on stage? Do you still just imagine some vague weight laying on top of you?”

The warmth of his breath comes closer and closer as he whispers his dark, drugging words until his lips are a feather touch against my ear with every syllable. I’m already slick and pulsing.

His finger on my spine is a tingling point of contact that has me squirming as he relentlessly continues. “Or do you have more specific dreams now? Will you think of the bristle of my stubble between your thighs? Or how your fingernails dug into my scalp as you howled with pleasure?”

My hips flex against the table as I squirm unintentionally, and dammit, I’m getting more than slightly slick now. I’m wet.

“Or do you need even more than that?” He’s whispering so softly, but it sounds like a roaring river with as close as he is, lips brushing my ear sensually.

“Will you dream of me climbing up your body? Grasping your wrists to press you into the mattress to dominate you in just the way you like?”

Damn him, damn him?—

“And then you’d feel me there, where you say you’ve never had a man before. I’ll have made you so crazy with need you’ll be soft for me. I’ll make you hurt other places, love, but it won’t hurt when I take you. It’ll be the fullness you spoke of. The fullness you’ve been needing. Because you’re needy, I can tell. If you thought I’ve made you feel good before, it’s nothing to how it will feel when I fill you up from the inside. Then I’ll be everywhere, and you’ll be mine completely. You’ll never want to be anywhere else. You’ll fight to get your hands free, because you’ll want to grab my ass and pull me deeper into you. This one time, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll fuck you just how you need.”

I try not to let him see how my breath comes shorter and shorter the more he speaks, because I’m envisioning everything he’s saying.

“Maybe you’re thinking about it right now,” he whispers devilishly. “Maybe you’re thinking about how easy it would be for me to slip behind you. I could touch you where you’re swollen until you shudder for me. Then I’d unzip myself and you could feel me there. I’d tease you with my cock first.”

Now he brushes his nose against my ear, nuzzling me before his lips return. “I’d run the tip of my cock up and down your wet, swollen pussy lips. I’d let you feel me before slowly pushing inside. Not all at once. I’d test you out, a little bit at a time. Teasing you. One hand around your thigh with my thumb at your swollen little clit. It’d be easy to grab a nipple clamp from the wall. Putting one of those pretties on you would really give you something to think about other than worrying about any initial pinch you might feel when I breech you.”

He sucks in a breath, and for the first time I realize I’m not the only one he’s affecting. It both makes me feel like I have a little bit of power back and sends an entirely fresh gush of wetness to my sex. I imagine him hard in his slacks. Of course he’s affected. He’s so often hard around me. He just never lets on what that actually means . He’s always having me look at the floor or blindfolding me.

To hide how I affect him, too? Because I’m not the only one visualizing what he’s talking about. Somehow that makes his words feel even more real as his finger tracing down my spine gets nearer and nearer to my tailbone. My breaths are stuttered now, it’s true, but I’m close to not being able to breathe at all.

“I’ll have a pair of clamps on your nipples, and I won’t take it easy on you. They’ll hurt. I’d lift your chest up off the bench so I could flick them while I teased you with my cock, entering you just the slightest bit. I’d make you feel the pinch from the hang of the jewelry clamped on your nipples. You’ll be so aroused it’ll be on the tip of your tongue to beg me.”

He pushes even further so that his lips are cemented against my ear—a kiss as his voice continues in a hot rush, “But you’re fighting yourself, aren’t you? So you don’t beg. You’d want to. Something you should know about me, pet? I love the edge.”

His finger slips further down, just to the top edge of my ass crack. “The edge is where I thrive. Living on the edge of pleasure-not-given is the sweetest pain.”

My bottom lip is caught between my teeth, and my eyes squeeze shut.

“Right when you can’t bear it any longer, wanting to beg for my cock but refusing all you desire because you’re so strong, I’ll hold off just a little longer. And then longer still.” His finger toys in the crack of my ass.

“And then right when you can’t bear it anymore, so badly that you’re crying tears of need, I want you to pull your hand away.”

He withdraws his hand from my back and his mouth from my ear. I try so hard not to shudder or show any other outward sign that he’s affected me. As if to deny the smell of my wetness leaking down my leg that’s scented the room.

All but mocking me, he inhales loudly. Loud enough to ensure that I know he knows.

“Make sure I can see everything on camera, pet. But at the end, right when you feel that pleasure ready to explode through your body?—”

I’m waiting on his every word, all but ready to explode now ? —

“Don’t come. Don’t you dare let yourself fucking come, my little slut. Do you hear me?”

He chuckles darkly at the whine that escapes my throat.

“If I do this, will you finally tell me?—”

“And don’t half-ass it getting right up to the edge, or I’ll know. Don’t try to sneak an orgasm in, either, because I’ll know that too.”

Then he pulls away all together, warmth completely gone.

I barely keep in the feral scream of fury building in my throat as he exits the room.